Deep down we all think we’re great drivers.
We see James Bond driving through a Parisian bakery while shooting at a KGB assassin with one hand and sewing up a stab wound with the other and we think to ourselves: I could do that.
Except for the stitches, of course. Ouch!
I recently got a tiny taste of what it’s like to be a professional driver and came away with three major takeaways: 1. No, I can’t do that. 2. Even so, it’s really fun. 3. When I was done all the fancy stuntman driving, I sadly didn’t get to roll around on a beach with Halle Berry.
The occasion that got me all revved up was a media event in Edmonton put on by Canadian company Kal Tire. The Vernon-based outfit picked me to spend a day trying out their new, rigorous tire testing program because they recognized my position as a high-powered, trend-setting columnist in the world of tire journalism. Also our regular auto columnist was busy that day.
And so it was that I awoke at 4:45 a.m. one rainy Vancouver morning, feeling like a big-shot jetsetter eating a silent breakfast before heading off to catch a plane while my family slept. Except that I woke them all up when I left, missed my bus, sprinted to the SeaBus and spent the next 25 minutes filling various pieces of TransLink equipment with my big shot, jetsetting sweat.
I made the plane though, and touched down in Edmonton filled with nervous excitement, no idea what was in store for me. They’d sent me a pre-event package but it hadn’t helped me at all, possibly because I didn’t open it. All I knew was that the event had something to do with tires and was being held at Northlands. That’s where the Oilers play. Hmmm . . . would we be driving on the ice? That would be interesting. What if I crashed into one of the Oilers?! That would be horrible – there are a few of them who might even be good enough to play in the NHL!
I soon discovered that we weren’t driving inside the arena but in an empty parking lot next to it. I’d been brought from Vancouver to Edmonton to experience real Canadian winter driving. It was 10˚C. In fact it had just been raining, something that made my first high-speed driving test a little bit wilder than the crew were expecting because it was supposed to be a dry road test but instead the pavement was slick.
As I casually signed a waiver that could have said anything – “in the event of you being a dumbass and crashing our car you will not be held responsible for any damage but will be forced to watch every episode of Dawson’s Creek back-to-back-to-back” – I eyed up the pylons, splash zones and souped-up test cars waiting for me.
Can I drive now? I asked.
Yes. Yes you can.
After a few quick demos I was behind the wheel about to execute the exact same high-speed manoeuvres carried out by the professional testers hired by Kal Tire to rate every piece of rubber that comes into their stores.
The woman in the passenger seat beside me was one of those professional testers, a race-car driver who, as I was pulling into the course, was explaining to me the finer points of lateral traction and hydroplaning while adding that our car was carrying two GPS devices and was being tracked by 11 satellites.
She had some tips too: always look at the corner you’re taking – if you look at that tree over there, we’ll hit the tree. When we do the straight-line braking test be ready for the “slam back,” she reminded me. She also noted that there wasn’t quite enough clearance on all sides of the circular cornering course so when you’re blasting around it at 0.7 Gs waiting to go into a controlled slide, maybe let off just a bit when we’re passing that nearby light pole.
Got all that? Good. OK, floor it.
I didn’t, in fact, get all of it. I was too busy thinking about all those satellites watching me and all the cosmonauts who’d be having a good chuckle after I wrapped our Chrysler around a folksy Edmonton lamppost. But whatever. Vroooom!
I didn’t crash into a light pole. I didn’t come close to matching the professional drivers either, but I also didn’t soil my pantaloons. I did meet some very nice folks who sell tires and some very crazy folks who test tires when they’re not driving on “closed circuits” or on the moon or whatever professional drivers do for fun.
It was educational. And as far as I can tell, that was the whole point of the exercise. Get educated. Make sure you have the right tire for the conditions and you trust the people who are selling them to you.
“Way too many people take their tires for granted,” one of the pros told me, another race-car driver who I swear would make a great Bond villain. “I look at it as something that can save me or kill me.”
OK sir, sounds good. Thanks for the thrills. Say hi to Halle for me.
Andy Prest is the sports editor for the North Shore News and writes a biweekly humour/lifestyle column. He can be reached via email at [email protected].
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